Doug Clark: A great show, but it had one Eagle too many

I joined the gray masses Friday night and went to the Spokane Arena to see that venerable band of aging balladeers known as the Eagles.

But before going any further, I’d like to offer a brief bit of Miss Mannerly advice to concertgoers everywhere.

And that is …

“SHUT THE ($%#*) UP AND JUST LISTEN TO THE BAND!!!

What a concept, huh?

Sorry. I needed to get that off my chest after sitting next to Karaoke Kate.

That’s the nickname I bestowed upon the 50-something woman who, luck of the box office draw, happened to occupy the seat next to me during the concert.

To preserve what’s left of her dignity, I won’t reveal my exact location.

Let’s just say that what I shelled out for tickets would’ve made an ample down-stroke on a Cadillac back when Glenn Frey first told us he was trying to loosen his load with seven women on his mind.

Karaoke Kate was on my mind because she thought she was the fifth Eagle.

Or sixth, depending whether or not guitarist Bernie Leadon was on stage at the time.

Delusion really is the strongest drug.

To say that Karaoke Kate is an Eagles fan is like saying ISIS is a threat to Middle East sanity.

Not only did Double K know every word to the 27 songs the Eagles performed Friday night, but she belted them out at about the same level as the band.

Plus she was enough out of tune to make my teeth ache.

But wait, there’s more.

Karaoke Kate punctuated many of her performances with a nerve-rattling roar that would’ve embarrassed a howler monkey.

“AAAHHRRRGGGHH!!!”

Weird.

I’m no idiot. Howling aside, I realized what I might be getting myself into when I decided to get an Eagles fix.

This is no mere band, after all.

The Eagles, as singer/drummer Don Henley likes to say, is a band that produced a soundtrack for many of us who were young and wild during the ’70s.

Eagles tunes are more infectious than cholera. The catchy melodies and visual lyrics were a part of our AM radio culture.

A grossly overplayed part, say Eagles haters.

Not me, though. I’m an Eagles fan from way back because of the beauty and cinema of those songs.

I spent hours and hours learning those tunes on my guitar and then covering them later in bands.

“I’ve got a peaceful easy feeling.”

“You can’t hide those lyin’ eyes.”

“It’s another tequila sunrise.”

“Welcome to the Hotel California …”

I defy anyone in my general age bracket to read these lyrics without those earworm melodies springing to life and taking hold deep inside the brain.

So as I was saying, I knew I was going to have to put up with a certain amount of the sing-along syndrome.

And that’s OK – in moderation.

But Karaoke Kate took it several decibel levels beyond, as if her expensive ticket had bought her an audition, too.

Which made me wonder: When did it become OK to be rude?

I blame reality TV shows like “American Idol” and “America’s Got Talent” for making the idiot masses think that they, too, deserve a shot under the spotlight.

Or maybe it’s just another boorish example of our entitlement culture.

Sure, I could have asked Karaoke Kate to stuff a sock in it.

The only flaw with that scenario is not knowing where such a request might lead.

I don’t know about you, but I fear the iPhone.

Because of smartphones, we’re all one wrong move away from starring in an embarrassing YouTube video.

So unlike Karaoke Kate, I kept my mouth shut and tried to focus my attention on Leadon, Timothy B. Schmit, Frey, Henley and Joe Walsh.

You know, the talented real Eagles that I paid a small fortune to see.